Secret No Longer

[ Dear Readers:

If you prefer to read episodes of this series without their predecessors, that's fine and I hope you enjoy them that way. Just a heads-up, though: It's not meant to be an anthology. All the episodes (except the first) build on those before them, so you'll probably conclude some things differently from what was intended.

Some of our readers' public and private comments touch on unmentioned matters, just a few of which are safe sex, STDs and common real-world consequences of things and events in the story.

Two chief rules in theatre are, first, everything on stage must have a reason to be there, second, everything that the action requires must be present, whether explicitly or implicitly. It's not much different in written fiction. By the second rule, if a story does not get into some particular issue explicitly or implicitly (for example, indirectly through consequences) then it is irrelevant because the author deems it so and asks the reader to consider that issue adequately handled without mention. Sometimes action may be simplified a little from what is actually meant for the sake of smoothness and avoiding distracting details unnecessary for understanding the scene. A good author has respect for the reader's intelligence and imagination and does not feel compelled to paint every scene with photographic detail.

In short, if it ain't there, it don't matter. Please remember that this is a story, not a case study or the news.]

SECRET NO LONGER Chapter 05

Our decision to put an end to our lesbian trysts had created a line of division with the past, and with it, a separation from the resentment against the men. It wasn't gone entirely, but by the time Fred returned home I was ready to drop it and let a few days' rest clean up the dust.

"You look a lot better, Lin," Fred said when he returned, relief glowing bright in his eyes. "I was worried there for a while."

"Thanks, love," I said, returning his embrace. It was warm and reassuring. "Just one of those things. Happens to us all now and then."

"You betcha," he said brightly, playfully tweaking my nose.

Rest did return that night, and in a few days life seemed to have found its tracks again. As much as I missed the pleasure of my special meetings with Jannie, I felt the weight of uncertainty lift from my shoulders. It had been a kick for a while; it had been torture for a little while; now it was a mostly a pleasant memory. I quietly watched the guys for signs of reaction to the sudden cessation of what had become our pleasure and their entertainment. I didn't see anything particularly noteworthy.

Jannie and I settled easily back to our old, familiar pattern. We still met almost daily; we jawboned about everything and anything and even our short-lived interlude became an acceptable subject of conversation without pain.

With the fading of that old distress, the picture Jannie had hinted at started popping up in mind from time to time, dimly and slowly at first, but more and more with time. It was the picture of my son enjoying the fulfillment of an old fantasy, one which Jannie and I had both easily recognized over the years despite his efforts to hide it, though one I never imagined until recently could in any conceivable way be fulfilled. I thought of Dustin Hoffman in

The Graduate

and that video of

Stacy's Mom

and all the other little mentions of those young men's fantasies of older women that bore none of the drastic stigma of incest. Sure, it was sheer imagination, predicated on some assumptions that were by no means sure, but it was strangely interesting. I had not meant to mention it, but it happened to come up on one of our coffee days, as they had all become since our decision to end our lesbian trysts.

"Whoo boy, Jannie! Those nipples are saluting the world today, aren't they?" I teased. Jason is not the only one who notices them.

"Well, it's a bit chilly, I suppose," she replied, laughing. "Not that these need much encouragement."

"I'll bet Jason would love to get a good stare at those right about now," I teased.

"That he would, Lin, that he would indeed," she responded with a laugh. "He's always such a gentleman about it, but he hasn't been able to hide the signs, not for all this time, for sure."

"Of course, he saw all that and more when we were on Candid Camera," said I. "But I really think he'd get a hell of a kick out of seeing what I'm seeing right now anyway—the more so since our little show is some weeks in the past now. Just hypothetically, you know."

"Lin, I'd almost think you were encouraging me," she said with a bit of a sly, seductive tone. She had no idea how right she really was. I could not fathom why this picture was growing more prominent in my thoughts as the days progressed. Why should it? OK, it isn't troubling me, but why is it

intriguing

me? It's not really going to happen, is it?

For a while the whole subject seemed to have settled into the patchwork of our many conversations. In a week or two, however, I began to get a few very subtle impressions that Jannie was behaving a bit differently when Jason was around. For one thing, she seemed to be choosing clothes that emphasized her most attractive features, those legendary nipples in particular, not always, but noticeably more frequently. She seemed to be finding little excuses for him to come over to help her with some task or other. There was nothing to suggest that anything more was happening when I wasn't there to observe, but something was certainly in the wind. I decided to broach the subject.

"Linda, I'll be absolutely honest with you," she replied to my casual question. "I think you're right. I swear, I haven't been trying to deliberately, but maybe I am a little different around him. I don't want to tease him or cause any trouble, but...I don't know...maybe some little tingle inside is leading me to make little decisions about what I wear or some other thing that I think appeals to him." I was sure I saw some girlish excitement in her speech, something like I had known in our own times together. It seemed that something might well come of it, and soon. I was surprised to note that I was looking forward to it. I was even more so to discover that I wanted to be there when it happened.

Some weeks passed without incident, and I had not given the subject of Jannie and Jason much thought for some time. There came a dry spell when, once again, travel kept the men we loved away from our touch, leaving us perhaps more than usually sensitive—all right, the honest word: horny. One day, as Jannie and I were at our usual pastime, Jason happened by. Despite his heroic efforts to conceal it, I could plainly see that Jannie was the reason that he did. Jannie was wearing a light, crisp, pastel-colored blouse over a very thin, sheer bra, and very snug, well-fitting jeans, certainly for his benefit. I could almost swear that she was deliberately leaning back, stretching that blouse against her breasts and looking away from him, pretending she didn't see it if he was giving them a good study. I saw him trying to do just that, but he was apparently intimidated a bit by my presence and the chance my own disapproval would spoil the scene. I did not disapprove and I automatically looked toward Jannie, only half-aware that I was doing the same thing she was, giving him time to look without seeming to be noticed.

Jason, apparently encouraged, took a seat with us and chatted with us on sailboats. Jannie and I both noticed a certain hesitation and halting in his speech now and then, as if his attention had been forcibly redirected for a moment and he had to work to turn it back. It became so obvious that we both suddenly burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Jason asked, quizzically.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," I replied quickly. "Just something you said reminded us of something we were talking about earlier."

"Something funny about sailboats? Come on, let me in on the joke," he said, incredulous.

"It's nothing, nothing, really," Jannie said to him, playfully grabbing his cheeks in her hands and gently shaking them, the way you might play with a baby. The gesture was simple, chaste, yet the mere fact of physical contact had set something in motion. Jannie and Jason settled back in their chairs, but there was now a tension, a good tension but tension nonetheless, in their manners. I saw Jannie look into my eyes, asking a silent question, and must have seen an affirmative answer there.

"C'mon you too, let's cool off a bit!" she cried.

As I said, the placement of our two houses and yards affords us almost complete privacy; in fact, Jannie and I had often sunbathed nude in the past, even before we had gotten sexual, so we had no fear of prying eyes. Jannie grasped my wrist in one hand and Jason's in the other and dragged us onto the broad lawn. She then cranked open the sprinkler and started dancing gleefully in the spray, saturating her clothes. With surprise in my eyes, and utter captivation in Jason's, we saw that blouse turn gradually transparent, and the bra beneath it, until the two hid nothing of her breasts, but merely emphasized them. With wild abandon she twisted and turned in the fountain, smoothing the water from her hair, her shoulders, her barely-shielded breasts, an extemporaneous and sensuous water ballet. When she then began tweaking her nipples openly while glancing seductively at Jason, his absorption with her reached a peak, and then he recovered his mobility. With a final glance at me, Jason strode into the spray, dancing closely with Jannie. He was careful at first, not wanting to overstep his welcome, overt as it was, but soon his embrace freely wandered over her ass, her sides, and then, when she turned her back to him and leaned into him, he cupped his hands over those exquisite breasts and nipples.

"Jason, Jason..." she murmured. "It's OK, isn't it, Lin?"

I pretended a critical look followed by relenting.

"Go for it, you two!" I cried.

Jason threw himself into the dance with gusto, matched eagerly by Jannie, then suddenly stopped.

"Oh, shit! My wallet! Everything will get soaked. Just a minute while I put it somewhere."

"Not a chance, stud!" Jannie shouted, grasping his arms. "Here's how we take care of that!"

Jason and I both gasped as Jannie quickly unfastened Jason's belt, unsnapped his jeans, unzipped them and dragged them to his ankles. We were both so taken aback that she had completed the entire process before either of us could respond. That was only momentary, though. Delighted, Jason stepped out of the jeans and Jannie tossed them to the side, out of the range of the sprinkler.

"Now, isn't that better?" she cooed as she and I both automatically turned our gaze to Jason's now half-denuded hips.

Jason was embarrassed, but only for a moment.. The sudden realization of that years-long fantasy was overpowering him. Despite the chill of the water, a splendid erection was rapidly asserting itself within the confines of his white undershorts, which had themselves become partially transparent from the water.

Noticing that I could feel so easy and comfortable looking at my son's tenting underwear was a little disorienting. Maybe, I thought, it was knowing that he had been watching me

dishabillé

for all that time, yet somehow I could sense that this was unrelated. This was simply two women's appreciation of the handsome specimen of manhood before us manifesting the natural force of his sexuality at the sight and touch of a woman who had had a special place in his pantheon of goddesses for so long. For the moment his blood relationship to me was suspended. I saw only his striking form, all of him, not just the expanding penis, but not excluding it either.

Thus transfixed I was suddenly surprised when Jannie ran the short distance to me and grasped my wrists.

"Hey, wallflower!" she cried. "You're invited to this party too, you know."

Jannie firmly dragged me into the spray and I felt the pleasant chill of the water penetrating through my clothes. Whatever reservations I might have had I forced away. I had wanted to be part of this, and now I was. After all, I was still chastely clothed; Jannie was the wanton one.

I then glanced down and realized that I was not so chastely clothed after all. Having not foreseen this turn of events I had foregone a bra, something I rarely do. With the wet, the powder-blue top I was wearing was now clinging intimately to every bit of my own topography, and my own nipples were now only barely less prominent than Jannie's. Both her jeans and mine were saturated and glossy, clinging to our bodies, something that I know many men like, and I knew, Jason not the least among them. I strove to stay behind him, encouraging him to concentrate his attention on Jannie, and succeeded. I was surprised that I felt no inclination to retreat and find more effective cover.

Jannie was now swaying a little way from Jason and I saw her fingers playing with the top button of her blouse. Jason reached for it and she backed away coquettishly, delaying a while before unfastening it. With teasing slowness she continued with two more. She then worked the buttons from the bottom, until there remained only one fastened, directly between her breasts. She sidled up to Jason, snuggling close, then pulled his head between her breasts. Jason, not missing the cue, released the button with his lips and tongue, and Jannie, drunk with glee, danced away, dropping the blouse to the ground.

She then pulled Jason toward her and stepped in front of him, her back to him, leaning back onto his broad chest.

"If you would be so kind, Jason, will you please unfasten my bra?" she said seductively.

"I should be honored, M'lady," Jason replied, matching her mock formality, as he did as she had asked. She then turned sideways and gently dropped the bra to the ground. She then slid up to Jason and, with a few deft moves and his cooperation, divested him of his own shirt, leaving him clad only in those clinging, semi-sheer undershorts. She pressed her body into his, caressing his chest with her undraped breasts, absorbing and reveling in my son's attentions, administered with hands, lips, his entire body, to her breasts, her ass and the round form of her hips, though stopping short of the most intimate of destinations. The sight had slowly driven me from amazed observer to an intensely aroused woman, mindless of the circumstances or location of this mad party.

Jannie then moved behind Jason, pressing her body to his back and caressing his chest with her hands. The position left him facing directly toward me, eyes glazed and yet not unseeing, occupied with Jannie but not unaware of his mother and the exposure which the wetness of my clothes had caused. I still felt no desire to hide. I know I felt even more than that, but the implications were so shocking that I suppressed them automatically even before I could become conscious of them. Jannie, as always, read me like an open book, and she was seducing me as much as she was seducing my son, trusting that if I really objected I could simply leave or otherwise separate myself; she thereby knew what it meant when I did not try.

With a sudden move she pressed Jason's shoulders and indicated she wanted him to sit on the lawn. With a glance she suggested the same to me. Jason and I were still a few feet apart, separated, but not by much. Jannie then stood a short way from us and commenced an electrifying striptease, peeling the soaked and clinging jeans from her hips with a skill that had excited me often enough, but which was driving Jason into paroxysms. By now completely rid of any shyness, he changed his position so he was on his knees, and the raging of his manhood now shot straight skyward, full and unabashed, stretching the limits of the white fabric. When he caught me looking for a moment he displayed a little automatic shyness, but when I responded only with more interest, he turned back to Jannie, and, I thought, thrust his hips forward to make his erection even more prominent.

Jannie's jeans slowly slipped to the ground. Jason reached to her ankles to speed her extrication from them. She then dropped to the lawn, also on her knees, facing him. Slowly, gently, she drew him to her, and he matched her embrace with his own. Their eyes met, then their lips. The kiss was hot, passionate, and the heat within me leapt higher, much higher.

Jannie broke from the kiss and leaned back, swaying her hips gently. The neat, brown patch of her pubic hair, now not in the least bit obscured, spoke to Jason, and he confidently drew Jannie's panties down. I knew then, with a start, the next step, and felt no wish to avoid it. Jannie reached within Jason's straining shorts, caressed and stroked that rigid member, and removed his shorts, leaving them both naked. She then released his cock and turned directly to me, forcing my attention directly to it. This was not checking for approval now; that time was long past. She was leading me to focus on my son's cock, to admire it, and thus to accept the blurring of the line of division between mother and son which had once been such a cause of grief to me. My response was only to grow more aroused, which arousal was clearly apparent in my face.

Jannie was gently leading Jason to lie on the lawn, on his back. I grabbed an inflatable cushion and watched, transfixed. Jason lay back on it and Jannie was now straddling Jason's hips. I knelt directly beside her. For a moment she touched Jason's face, a tender yet sensuous touch. Then, in a completely surprising move, she turned to me and kissed me, then looked straight into my eyes, linking me even more closely with the play performing before me, also, perhaps, to offer me one last opportunity to veto it. In any case, no such veto occurred.

Jannie reached between her legs and took Jason's cock in her gentle grasp. Positioned as I was, I would have to make a definite move forward to see her complete that action. I told myself I shouldn't, that I should be involved only with Jannie and the two as a couple, and not my son, but myself did not listen. I knelt forward and stared, rapt at the sight of Jason's cock in Jannie's hand. I saw her draw it upward; I saw it meet her lips, the lips of her vagina which I had often pleasured in our own dances, and then, in slow motion, like a dream, I saw her descend upon it, absorbing it, inviting it, devouring it, until the full force and form of my son's manhood was within her.

Janine, my friend of so many years, Janine, was fucking my son, right before my eager eyes!

Still dreamlike, I watched the pageant unfold. I saw my friend's accelerating pulsations, ones I had known before, riding the shaft of my son's manhood, wild, unleashed, to its full height and then its full depths, over and over, growing, reveling in them as Jason matched her movements with his own, though limited by their position. I did not attempt to conceal my thrall with the entire spectacle, not even the sight of my son's cock—

especially

not the sight of my son's cock..

I then leaned back up and met Jannie's lips with another kiss. We embraced, causing me to rise and fall with their rhythm. I turned back to face Jason and our eyes met briefly. At that moment I felt a sudden, unexpected touch, and before I had even a moment's opportunity to protest, I felt Jannie's hands reach under that wet, clinging top and lift it over my head.

Good God, here I am, my breasts exposed to my own son's sight, watching Jannie fuck my son! Jason, who had theretofore seen my bare breasts only from the distance and with the limited visibility of his optical device, now gazed upon them barely inches from his own body. I felt Jannie begin stroking and caressing my breasts, adding me to the dance, compelling me to return the attention to her own. My touch ignited her further, accelerating the frantic bucking of her body. Her fingers on my bare breasts were electrifying, uniting me with her passion, diverting a measure of her own pleasure directly into my now-fevered body.